Other Moments in the Woods
by slvrhvk
Summary: On his search for a new cow, the baker stumbles across a wounded young man. What else could he do but help him?


**You guests need to calm the fuck down right now. **

* * *

_New cow, right. Find a new cow. How hard can it be to find a new cow?_ The baker thought to himself as he pushed through the thicket. A branch snapped back and hit him in the face. "Agh!" he shouted in shock.

Once he had brushed himself off, the baker continued through the woods. He hopped over a fallen log and rubbed his temple. _Cow as white as milk, right. Cow as white as milk. Where am I going to find another cow as white as milk?__!_

The baker leaned against a tree for a moment, catching his breath. _Old woman Maria has a cow as white as milk__..._ he considered. _I'm sure she wouldn't mind loaning hers to us. But she's in the next village over, it would take a long time to walk there..._

But something had caught his attention, interrupting his train of thought. He had been so wrapped up in thinking about the cow that he hadn't been listening. _Not that it's too easy to hear in the woods, all the birds and the wind..._

Either way, what the baker could hear now was someone whimpering. It was close, that much he could tell, but he couldn't see the source. At first he thought it may be a wounded animal of some sort. Listening closer, though, he could tell it was a person.

Stepping forward, the baker peered around the trees in the direction of the voice. "He- Hello?" he called, and the noise stopped. A moment later he heard the rustling of the leaves underfoot. The baker followed the noise, stepping over several fallen branches and almost slipping.

He immediately came to see a young man lying on his side, facing away from him. It looked as if he were trying to stand up, but to no avail. _Drunk, no doubt... _The baker took another step forward. "Um, excuse me, sir?" he asked.

The man yelped, kicking his legs around and rolling onto his stomach. "If your purpose is robbery, take what you want. I will put up no fight," he cried. The baker's brow furrowed, and he walked closer.

"I'm not- I'm not going to rob you," he said with a slight, humorless chuckle. The baker inched closer and closer to the man on the ground, confused. "Are you- um, are you alright?"

He received no answer; the man had pushed himself into an awkward position, whimpering. It was almost as if he were trying to bury his head in the ground. Now, though, the baker could see the man's hands, as well as a small part of his face.

The baker almost gagged.

The man's hands, as well as all the way up his arms, were bloody and torn, soiled with dirt. The bit of his face that the baker could see didn't look quite as bad. But it was still bad enough to merit concern.

"Oh my- oh my _God,_" the baker breathed, hand flying to his mouth. "Are you- what _happened_ to you!?" Before the man had a chance to say anything, though, the baker had slid to his side. "Were you attacked? Here, roll over, I've a skin of water. You need a bit of a cleaning up."

"I do not need your help," the man protested, but the baker scoffed.

"Don't need my help indeed. Let's get you on your back, come now." He glanced up at the darkening sky as he helped the man roll over, worry crossing his face. _I don't have much time left... but I can't just leave him here._

The baker looked down on the man, who had curled his legs up toward his chest. His face looked even worse from this angle, assaulted with the same wounds as his arms. And through the blood, the baker could tell his eyes were far beyond the point of saving.

Taking a deep breath, he fumbled his waterskin out of his satchel. "Do you..." he began, "Do you have a handkerchief? Or a... a cloth of some sort?"

The man opened his mouth, wincing as he moved his arm to pat the pocket of his jacket. "I have a scarf," he said. The baker reached into the man's pocket, retrieving a white, silken scarf. He then proceeded to wet it with the water, balling it up in his hand.

As he brought it close to the man's face, the baker paused. "This may- this may sting a bit," he said. Before the man could say anything, the baker pressed the scarf to his bloody face. A sharp gasp came from the man's ashen lips, his body arching.

"I'm sorry," the baker muttered.

"It's alright," came the man's response. That was enough cue to continue.

Squaring his shoulders, the baker began to dab the scarf across the man's eyes. The blood rubbed off easy enough, though the scratches underneath were sights for themselves. After a moment, the man had relaxed under the baker's touch, breaths slowing down.

"I apologize for my hostility before, sir..." he began, breaking the silence.

The baker looked down at him, surprised, and a small chuckle escaped his throat. "No need to be sorry. I frightened you, simple as that," he responded. As he wet the scarf again, the baker pursed his lips. "If you don't mind me asking, what got you cut up like this?"

With a quiet laugh, the man smiled. "Don't mind at all, though you won't believe me when I tell you. It will sound impossible."

Pausing, the baker returned the smile. "I've found myself believing a lot of impossible things the past few days. Don't think you'll be the one to surprise me."

The man's grin broadened, and the baker started to clean off his bloody arms. "Well it started with a maiden in a tower, first of all. _Beautiful_ woman, Rapunzel is. Long blonde hair, fair of face. We have met there in her home every day for the past three days. It's _magical_."

"Yes?" the baker asked, pouring more water on the scarf. "And the maid, Rapunzel? Did she do this to you?"

A laugh escaped the man, loud and sincere. "No, no she would not do this to me. This was all the doing of her mother. I suspect, anyway," he said, and the baker's brow furrowed.

"Her mother?" he asked. The man nodded as best as he could.

"Her mother indeed. My love spoke of her when I would leave, warning me to be careful. I did not heed this advice well enough, you can see."

The baker snorted, moving onto the other arm. "Yeah, I can tell. But how'd her mother manage this without you seeing her?"

"Well it was easy. She's a witch," he stated. The baker froze, scarf hovering above the man's elbow. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. It's just... I've been dealing with a witch the past few days as well. Thought it was a coincidence, both of us... and the maid in the tower..." he trailed off, and the man tilted his head.

"You have a maid in a tower as well? Coincidence may be too weak a word, my friend." The baker shook his head, beginning to wash off his arm again.

"No, no. I haven't actually _met_ a maid in a tower, I just... never mind," he sighed. "Have you heard about the woman fleeing the prince?"

The man chuckled again, wincing when the baker touched a particularly deep cut. "I have indeed. Didn't think it was reasonable, a woman running away from a prince. Especially the heir to the throne."

"I can understand it. I'd run away from that sort of life too. It's all real frightening in my opinion. Besides, that prince," the baker scoffed, making a fake gagging noise. The man laughed, and the baker laughed with him, softer. "And who would want to live with that awful King, even in a palace so large?"

"I agree, good sir," the man chuckled.

"Please, I'm no sir. I'm just a baker," he smiled, and the man put one of his own hands on top of his.

"Well thank you, mister baker. For all your help," said the man. The baker squeezed his hand, gentle and making sure he didn't hurt him further. After a moment of silence, the baker cleared his throat and pulled his hand away.

"I- here, let me help you sit up. I can wrap the scarf around your eyes so they have time to heal up," he said. The man groaned as the baker helped him into a sitting position. He began to wrap the scarf, glancing at the sky to make sure he wasn't taking too long. If the baker hadn't known any better, he'd say the man's hand was inching up his thigh.

When he had finished, he tied it at the back of his head. "Alright, there we are. I can leave you with a knife or something, but I must be going," the baker said. He didn't stand up, halted by the man's move to speak..

"Thank you. I am forever in your debt," the man said. "I have no money with me as of now, but I will ensure you are well paid when I return home."

The baker made several noises of protest, putting a hand on the man's chest. "No, no! There's no need to pay me. Please, I was just helping," he said, laughing. The man seemed to consider this, turning his head away, before he shrugged.

"If you do not wish for money, perhaps a different payment?" he asked, and the baker let a confused sound slip out of his mouth. "Tell me, good baker. Has a prince ever kissed you before?"

The question shocked the baker, leaving him in a stunned silence. "W- well... _no_, actually. I've never... _met_ a prince before," he stammered, mouth hanging open.

"Well I suppose there has to be a first time for everything," the man said with a chirpy tone. And before the baker could realize what was happening, the man's mouth was on his. The kiss was deep, _practiced_, as if he'd done this a thousand times.

The baker felt a variety of emotions flooding him at once. _Guilt_ for betraying his wife. _Shock_ at the sudden turn of events. _Confusion,_ why was this happening? And _pleasure. God was this pleasurable. _He may or may not have let out an involuntary sigh.

"Well," the man said, pulling away from the baker with a smile. "Glad I didn't miss your mouth, that would have been a terrible mistake. You must be off, and I must find my maiden."

The man whistled, and the baker turned to see a white horse trotting toward them. "Ah Max! Thank goodness you're still around," he laughed, using the horse to help himself up. The baker sat in still shocked silence as he mounted the horse. _A difficult task for a blind man... _

"Farewell, mister baker, and thank you. Should you ever find yourself at our annual festival I would enjoy your presence. Good fortune," the man smiled, collapsed against his horse's neck. And with a gentle kick to the side, the horse had trotted away with the man.

The baker, still shocked, was still sitting on the ground. _Our annual festival? Has a prince ever kissed me? My father? The pieces were beginning to come together in the baker's mind. Bloody hell, that was the prince! _"Oh my _God!_" the baker shouted, jumping to his feet. "Did that just happen!?"

But he didn't have enough time to dwell on it, because above him night was beginning to fall. _I don't have enough time to find another cow!_ He thought, eyes going wide. _I wonder if perhaps I could... cover one in flour... _


End file.
